Across The Sky
by LoveYouToDeath14
Summary: This is an Aragorn love story. Belletheil is the last of the Laidir, who were slaughtered in front of her when she was five. She managed to escape to Rivendell. Now many years have passed and she has become a fantastic warrior and joins the fellowship.
1. Arrival

A refreshing breeze gently caressed my face and tugged at strands of my fiery, copper hair beneath a brilliant blue sky. Perched on the wagon beside me, Gandalf puffed peacefully at his pipe. I grinned at the thought that no matter how old he was and how much he smoked, he never died from it. I shook my head.

"How much longer until we arrive at Bilbo's?" I questioned.

"It can't be long now," he replied, keeping his gaze to the path in front of him. I nodded, accepting his answer.

My mind began to wander with nothing to focus on. It touched upon Bilbo and Frodo, and how they were doing. I was very excited to see them since it had been many years. I first met them while traveling with Gandalf. Then it came onto thoughts that I had been pushing to the back of my mind. It had been years since I'd been to Rivendell and seen my adoptive father, Lord Elrond, as well as my adoptive sister, Arwen. My heart longed to see them, to know how they fared, and I knew it was time I returned; if only for awhile. However, as of late, thoughts of my old friend Aragorn plagued my mind. Even longer had passed since I last looked upon his face, and I wandered if he was still alive. Earnestly, I prayed he was, for he was my dearest friend.

"You're late!" shouted someone, snapping me out of my reverie. My eyes locked on a figure that appeared to be no more than a small boy with dark brown, curly hair. I could not stop the smile that graced my face.

"Frodo!" I called delighted, "long time no see!" Excitedly, I waved at him as he neared the wagon, and then jumped into the wagon. His crystal blue eyes sparked with joy.

"A wizard is never late, Frodo Baggins, nor is he early. He arrives _precisely_ when he means to," emphasized Gandalf. The two teasingly stared each other down, and I could not help but dissolve into laughter. Frodo and Gandalf cracked smiles and roared with laughter, all of us earning rather peculiar looks form adult hobbits we passed.

"It's wonderful to see you Gandalf, Belletheil!" rejoiced Frodo, as he fervently incased us in a bear hug.

"You didn't think we'd miss your uncle's birthday did you?" teased Gandalf with a twinkle in his blue eyes as he continued puffing on his pipe. His grey robes rustled as he made more room for Frodo.

"How is the rascal?" I warmly questioned as my pale hand brushed stray strands of my red side-bang out of my sky blue eyes. "I hear this is going to be a party of special magnificence,"

"You know my uncle; he has the whole place in an uproar. Half of the Shire has been invited – and the other half are turning up anyway!" laughed Frodo. Gandalf and I chuckled as well. "To tell you the truth, Bilbo has been a bit odd lately. I mean, more than usual," he explained as his face took on a look of concern, "He's taken to locking himself in his study and spends hours poring over old maps when he thinks I'm not looking. He's up to something,"

Gandalf and I turn to each other and share a knowing look, which Frodo caught.

"Alright then, keep your secrets, but I know you have something to do with it," Frodo declared, pointedly giving Gandalf a friendly accusatory look. "Before you came along, we Bagginses were very well thought of; never had any adventures or did anything unexpected," he continued.

"If you're referring to the incident with the dragon," I began, wanting to point out that I hadn't known Bilbo then.

"I was barely involved. All I did was give your uncle a nudge out the door," interjected Gandalf defensively, gazing down the brown dirt path we traveled on. I giggled knowing Gandalf had had way more to do with it than that. This earned me a mock glare from the old wizard.

"Whatever you did, you've been officially labeled as a disturber of the peace," enlightened Frodo, smirking, as Gandalf choked on his pipe smoke.

Suddenly, many little footsteps are heard racing towards the wagon as cries of Gandalf are repeated anxiously. Frodo just shakes his head and I smile as he lights up fireworks that swirl and sparkle in all different colors. The elated cheers of children followed us down the road as we all couldn't help but chuckle.

"Belletheil, Gandalf, I'm glad you're back!" Frodo joyfully stated giving Gandalf another hug and kissing me on the cheek. He then sprang from the cart and began walking off.

Minutes later we appeared in front of a hobbit hole and clambered out of the wagon. My legs were slightly stiff from sitting the entire day. Gently, I dusted my travel clothes off while Gandalf secured the horses.

We made our way up the walkway, and I opened the gate for Gandalf while smirking at the sign that read 'No Admittance Except on Party Business'. Predictable.

Gandalf removed the pipe from his mouth, grinned, and rapped on the door with his staff.

After a moment of silence a voice yelled, "No thank you, we don't want any more well-wishers or distant relations!"

"How about old friends?" suggested Gandalf, winking at me. There were a few audible clicks then the door swung open.

"G-Gandalf? Belletheil?" Bilbo stuttered. The small hobbit with graying curls and leathery skin ushered us inside. He embraced both of us and Gandalf studied the old hobbit.

"You haven't aged a day!" exclaimed Gandalf.

"Tea? Or maybe something a little stronger? I've got a few bottles of wine left! 1296, very good year! Almost as old as I am!" he gushed as he scuttled off.

"Just tea, thank you," replied Gandalf taking a step back and hitting the chandelier, then turning and smacking his head against a rafter. I chuckled, hunched over from my normal height of 5'5".

Gandalf began to wander around while Bilbo kept on rambling about food and being unprepared. I smiled and shook my head. Swiftly, I removed my silvery, blue cloak and hung it on a peg. Upon entering a room on the way to the kitchen, I noticed papers and books strewn across the floor. Becoming intrigued, I gingerly picked one up and studied it. I was so engrossed in the map that at the shrill shout of 'Bilbo Baggins!' and loud pounding on the door; I jumped, the map floating back to the floor. From the kitchen I dimly heard some conversation.

"They haven't forgiven me for living so long! I have to get away. I want to see mountains again. Mountains! Then find somewhere quiet I can finish my book," complained Bilbo, sighing.

"So you mean to go through with your plan then?" questioned Gandalf amid the clanking of dishes. I began walking towards the kitchen.

"Yes, yes, it's all in order," replied Bilbo.

"Frodo suspects something," I pointed out as I entered the kitchen and sat down at the quaint table.

"Of course he does, he's a Baggins!" exclaimed Bilbo, looking proud as he poured me some tea.

"You will tell him won't you?" I questioned, blowing on my tea.

"Yes, yes…" affirmed Bilbo, avoiding my gaze and taking a bite of sponge cake. I frowned.

"He _is_ quite fond of you," Gandalf nodded. Tentatively, I took a sip of hot tea. Flavor exploded in my mouth. Bilbo hung his head.

"I need a holiday; a very long holiday and I don't expect I shall return. In fact, I mean not to," decided Bilbo. Taking another sip of tea, I became saddened. I would miss the vibrant hobbit. "My friends, this will be a night to remember!"


	2. Bilbo's Birthday

The hum of conversation, along with laughter permeated the air. Hundreds of hobbits in brightly colored clothes danced upon the lush green grass, while several hobbits clapped to keep time with their hands.

I was wearing a short sleeved white and blue dress in the style of my people with a pattern of wings, moon, and elegant line deigns embroidered on the bodice in silver.

Frodo was currently trying to teach me a dance, which I was miserably failing at by the way, of the hobbits. The dance was energetic and fast and I was having trouble with the footwork. I moved my foot to step across but accidentally caught Frodo's foot as he was moving and tripped, becoming a sprawled heap on the ground.

As I looked into the star-speckled sky, I burst out in laughter at how ridiculous I must have looked. Frodo and many of the on looking hobbits joined me. Frodo extended his hand to help me up. Placing my hand in his, I was on my feet in a moment. He began dragging me to a table where I could see Sam staring at the dancing Rosie Cotton, then looking away and staring dejectedly into his ale.

"Are you alright?" asked Frodo, still chuckling.

"Yes, I'm fine," I replied, sitting down as he released my hand. Looking across at Sam, he was once again staring dreamily at Rosie Cotton. Frodo noticed.

"Come on, Sam! Ask Rosie for a dance!" prompted Frodo, grinning. Sam's eyes widened and he tore his gaze off Rosie and onto his ale.

"I think I'll have another ale," he hastily announced, standing up. I smirked devilishly and stood up also.

"Oh no you don't!" I exclaimed, pushing him towards Rosie. They began to dance immediately, and Frodo and I laughed and clapped our hands. Frodo made his way over to Bilbo and began talking. I really hoped Bilbo would keep his promise.

I sat at the table and admired the fireworks. Sparks of red, yellow, green, blue, and every color imaginable fell from the heavens like rain. All of a sudden, a nearby tent went up into the sky on a rocket in a cloud of smoke. The firework exploded, turning the tent to ash and forming a humongous, red dragon. It began speeding over the crowd causing people to duck and scream. Next to my table there was a small girl with her back to the firework that had no idea what was going on. I jumped from the table and tackled her to the ground gently, cradling her in my arms so she wouldn't get hurt. I smelt burning wood and saw the firework pass us then pull into itself. It then erupted silver across the sky and we all cheered. The small girl thanked me and was off. Before many noticed, I dashed to the place where the tent used to be and came up behind two hobbits. Merry and Pippin. I should have known. Gandalf appeared beside me and we smirked, and then grabbed one of the hobbits' ears.

"Merryadoc Brandybuck," Gandalf scolded, chuckling.

"And Peregrin Took," I clucked, "I should've known…." Gandalf then took Merry and Pippin away to do dishes and I couldn't help but laugh and shake my head as I made my way back to the table, whose tops was very much now singed. Soon, cries of 'Speech! Speech!' resounded throughout the host of hobbits. I looked to the front and saw Bilbo's figure climb onto a wooden stage.

"My dear Bagginses and Boffin's, Tooks and Brandybucks, and Grubbs, and Chubs, and Burrowses, and Hornblowers, and Bolgers, Bracegirdles, Goodbodies, Brockhouses and Proudfoots-" began Bilbo.

"Proudfeet!" shouted an elderly hobbit from the crowd which elicited laughter from the rest.

"First of all, I want to tell you that I am immensely fond of you all, and that eleventy-one years are too short a time to live among such excellent and admirable hobbits." He stated and was met with tremendous roars of approval. "I don't know half of you half as well as I should like; and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve," the hobbits fell into a puzzled, awkward silence. I had to keep myself from chuckling and wonder if they realize they've just been insulted. Bilbo began fidgeting and slipped his hand into his picket then removed it to behind his back. "I regret to announce that – though as I said, eleventy-one years are far too short a time to spend among you – this is the end. I am going. I am leaving now. Goodbye!" Bilbo vanishes. All the hobbits surrounding me are thrown into an uproar. They look around curiously hoping to see Bilbo, or what had happened. I knew they wouldn't. Remaining seated at the table, I propped my head upon my hand and sighed. Around me hobbits now looked like they thought it was a magic trick and he would reappear any moment. He wouldn't. Right now he was most likely getting his last things at his house. Gandalf was there, I knew, for I could no longer spot him anywhere in the crowd. He was probably scolding Bilbo on his use of the ring, and I smirked at this thought. It was not my place to be there now, I understood. It was to make sure Frodo doesn't do anything stupid. He had to let Bilbo go.

"Belletheil! Belletheil!" Frodo cried, distraught and breathless. His crystal blue eyes were wide. "Have you seen him? Where did he go?" wheezed Frodo, who had obviously been dashing around, searching.

"He's gone, Frodo," I murmured quietly, sympathetically. Lifting my head from my hand, I placed my hand comfortingly on his small shoulder and offered him a smile. Hesitantly, he smiled back and a single tear rolled down his cheek. My face softened as I knelt before him and pulled him into a hug. His arms latched around me as if I, too, were going to disappear. "You may yet see him again, Frodo. Who knows what the future has in store. Besides, he would not want you saddened so," I breathed. Releasing him, I wiped away his tears. I stood.

"Come, let's go home," I directed smiling. He nodded and followed me as we trudged up the dusty road. After a few minutes of silence, Frodo spoke.

"Thank you,"

"That's what friends are for," I replied warmly, smiling at the hobbit as the wind blew my hair into my face. Then we arrived.

Walking into the house, I noticed a golden ring lay in the entryway. It really was quite beautiful, made of pure gold and for some reason very alluring.

_Belletheil…_

Entranced, I slowly stretched my hand out towards it. As my fingertips merely grazed the ring, the eye of Sauron flashed in my head and I jumped; recoiling my arm. That thing was evil, or so my angel blood told me. As Laidir, we were half-angel, half-human. I left the ring where it was. Spotting Gandalf across the room sitting peacefully in a chair smoking a pipe with a distant look on his face, I walked over.

"He's gone, hasn't he? He talked about it for so long, but I never thought he'd actually do it," lamented Frodo with a sad look in his eyes. Gandalf said nothing.

"Gandalf?" I questioned, waving my hand in front of his face. He jerked a bit and snapped out of it, then turned to Frodo; as did I. Gandalf eyed Frodo's hand. In his palm lay the ring.

"Bilbo's ring. He's gone to stay with the elves," stated Gandalf, "He's left you Bag End,"

I handed Frodo an envelope, which he put the ring in. I then proceeded to seal it.

"And all his possessions," I added, holding out the envelope for him to take, "It is yours now,"

With a trembling hand he took the envelope.

"Keep it safe," I added, straightening then following Gandalf as he exited the room.

"Where are you going?" Frodo shouted, distressed.

"We need answers, there are questions that need answering," Gandalf replied, collecting our cloaks from the wooden pegs.

"But you've only just arrived!" protested Frodo as he turned pleading eyes on me. "I don't understand,"

I sighed.

"I'll remain with Frodo," I decided, hanging my cloak up. Frodo looked relieved.

"Very well," Gandalf acknowledged, "I shall return soon. Keep it secret, keep it safe!" he ordered looking from me to Frodo, and then walked out the door.

"Hide that somewhere, then you should rest," I directed, "You've had a long day," He nodded and scurried off. I was sad for my friend, he is kind and innocent and it is sad this must happen to him. For I know all too well the pain of losing someone. My thoughts began to take a dangerous turn, and I could feel the pain, sadness, regret, and self-hate creeping up on me. I tried to forestall the imminent, and noticed Frodo had returned and was gazing at me. He frowned.

"What's wrong?" he questioned.

"Nothing, nothing. I was simply thinking about Bilbo," I countered smoothly, forcing lightness into my voice and smiling. Well, it wasn't a complete lie. I_ had_thought about him in one sentence. This was something I would never trouble the hobbit with. Ever. "Well, Goodnight, Frodo. See you in the morning," I concluded, turning and walking to the room I was given.

"Thank you for staying!" called Frodo. I stopped, looked over my shoulder, and smiled. "You're welcome. Now go get some rest,"

I remained awake, lying in my bed. No matter how I tried to push away the thoughts and memories, I couldn't. They began playing like a movie in my head.

_The strength of the blow jarred my arm. I was surrounded by four of my sparring partners. Whirling, I blocked another blow then disarmed another partner. _

"_That's enough for today. We will continue tomorrow," ordered the weapons instructor. I sheathed my small sword, and he left his post leaning on a wooden fence. His strides were slow and leisurely. He was waiting for the others to leave. I was slightly hunched over with my hands on my knees trying to catch my breath. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the last person leave. My instructor was in front of me now and I straightened._

"_Is something wrong, Sir?" I questioned innocently. He was a tall man so I had to crane my neck to see his face._

"_No, there's nothing wrong. You have very good skill for someone as young as you. The skill worthy of the heir to our leader," he complimented stroking his short, clipped, graying beard._

"_Thank you, Sir," I chirped, flattered. Not even my father had said anything to me. He always pushed me harder, but I was grateful. I could not stop myself from grinning ear to ear._

"_I have something for you. I believe you are ready for it," he stated as he went to the side of the area we use to spar and picked up a long bundle wrapped in brown cloth. He began unwrapping the bundle to uncover something that seemed to glow almost, the metal was so bright. At once I recognized it. It was a claidheamh, a sword that is made for a specific person at their birth. They are given to who they were made for when their instructor believes they are ready._

"_For me?" I gasp. He nods and holds it out for me to take. With trembling hands I grasp it then bring it closer to get a better look. It's beautiful. The filigree on the winged hilt is very delicate and intricate. The thin, but long, blade had a crescent moon design engraved on it near the hilt. "It's beautiful! Thank you, Dorsidhion!" I cried gleefully, throwing my arms around him. He hugged me back, briefly, something else catching his attention. A black arrow whizzed past his ear. I spun around and held my new sword at the ready, well, more like tried to._

"_It's too big for you yet! Run and warn you father we're under attack!" he ordered drawing his claidheamh and turning to face the black figures racing this way. Smoke rose behind us and Dorsidhion noticed this. He cursed. Swiftly, I picked up my smaller word and drew it._

"_No! I'll help you fight!" I protested fiercely._

"_These enemies are beyond your skill! Go! Run to your family!" he bellowed, unrelenting, "Get out of here!"_

_The figures were almost upon us as I grabbed my claidheamh and raced up the hill to my house. Pausing at the top, I turned to see Doridhion surrounded by three tall, cloaked figures and some orcs. There were too many!_

"_Dorsidhion!" I shrieked in warning as one cloaked figure raised his sword behind him. I was too late. The figure impaled him though the chest and Dorsidhion fell to the ground, dead. Tears streamed down my face and I wailed, "Dorsidhion!" I wanted to dash down the hill and run to him, but the figures turned to me and ran towards me. I ran in fear. Finally, I reached my house and burst through the door. "Mother! Father! We're under attack!" I shouted. They sprung up from the table and the window shattered. I quickly covered my face with my arms and winced as shards of glass sliced my skin. Two of the cloaked figures stood in the room._

"_Where is the ring?" they hissed, stepping closer._

"_We don't have the ring!" my father defended, drawing his sword while my mother drew hers. I stood frozen; it was as if I watched in slow motion. My mother and father were slain and fell in bloody heaps._

"_Mother! Father!" I wailed, fresh tears cascading down my face. Frozen, I still stood. I could only watch as the figures neared. The pain from the glass finally brought me back to my senses. I stumbled backwards a few steps, then turned and tried to run out the door. A searing pain erupted across my back and I screamed as I fell forwards and smashed my head against the floor. My world faded to black. _

When I woke, everyone was dead and I fled to Rivendell. Ever since that day I've cursed myself for being so weak, and hated myself for running away. If I had done something maybe things would've turned out differently, or I could have died proudly as one of them. Then, I had come up with my own form of punishment. I removed my arm from beneath the covers and looked at the inside of my forearm. It was marred with scars and easily disguised with a simple spell with the magic of my people. It is my own retribution. I bleed and hurt as they did; as I deserve. I sighed and rolled over in bed, trying to get some sleep.


	3. Departure

Days passed as we awaited Gandalf's return. Life continued on normally, well as normal as it could be with Bilbo's absence. I could tell Frodo was feeling much better about it now. The day after he left Frodo was quiet and withdrawn, but now he was back to laughing and smiling with friends. Currently, we were walking back from one of the many pubs in Hobbition. When we came to the small round, wooden door of Bag End, we found it left ajar. Instantly, my guard was up. I glanced back at Frodo to see his face slightly worried and a little frightened.

"Stay behind me," I whispered, then drew my sword, whose winged hilt glittered in the sunlight. Its substance was similar to mithril, but it was an ancient alloy of my people used specially in the makings of claidheamhs and armor. It was as light as a feather, as hard as dragon scale, and reinforced with the magic of my people. Even in places like the Shire, I almost always had my claidheamh with me.

Slowly, I pushed to the door open and stepped inside. I tried to make my steps as light as possible. As I crept further into the house, it was a mess. Chests were open and items were littered haphazardly across tables and floors. Papers were strewn about and fluttered in the slight breeze from several open windows. Frodo silently crept behind me. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught movement in the shadows. It clasped Frodo's shoulder and I whipped around and had my sword against the intruder's neck. But then the light revealed the intruder to be none other than Gandalf and I removed my blade; sheathing it.

"Is it secret? Is it safe?" Gandalf questioned franticly with a wild look in his eyes. I watched as Frodo rummaged through a chest and removed the sealed envelope.

"Here it is," he called and held it up for us to see.

Gandalf snatched it out of his hand and hurled it into the fire.

"What are you doing?" Frodo cried, shocked. I stared at Gandalf, puzzled. He was staring at the fire intently and didn't move or answer Frodo. He waited for the paper to become ash before he took the tongs and lifted the ring from the fire.

"Hold out your hand, Frodo. It's quite cool. What can you see? Do you see anything?" Gandalf questioned as he dropped the ring into Frodo's hand.

"What are you looking for?" I asked curiously before leaning down and also staring at the ring. It glittered in the dim firelight.

"Nothing, there's nothing," stated Frodo, transfixed on the ring. I heard Gandalf release a sigh of relief. All of a sudden glowing lines began to form on the ring. I blinked to make sure I wasn't imagining things.

"Wait… there are markings. It's some form of elvish I can't read," I alleged slowly, trying to make out what it said.

"There are few who can," grumbled Gandalf, "It is the language of Mordor which I will not utter here," I gasped in realization. This was the one ring; the reason the Laidir were slaughtered.

"Mordor?" Frodo repeated.

"In the common tongue it means 'One ring to rule them all, one ring to find them. One ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them.' This is the one ring forged by Sauron in the fires of Mount Doom," I asserted, recalling the lore I was taught when young.

"Bilbo found it in Gollum's cave!" Frodo exclaimed, his eyes widening. I straightened.

"Yes, the ring laid quiet in Bilbo's keeping. It is what gave him old age; but not longer. Evil is stirring in Mordor. It's heard its master's call," Gandalf informed.

"But he was destroyed!" protested Frodo with a look of horror upon his face. I closed my eyes and became solemn, the sighed. I knew perfectly well he was not destroyed.

"No Frodo, the spirit of Sauron endured. His life force is bound to the ring and the ring survived," I explained, opening my eyes, "Sauron has returned,"

"His fortress is rebuilt, the orcs have multiplied. He needs only the ring to cover the lands in darkness," Gandalf added, "His is seeking it. The ring yearns to return to the hands of its master. They are one, Frodo. He must never find it," Frodo frowned, and then panicked.

"Alright, we'll keep it hidden, locked away. We'll never speak of it again!" Frodo proclaimed walking off to hide it. I shook my head. If only it were that simple. Frodo froze in his tracks. "Nobody know it's here… right?" I brushed my side-bang out of my eye and listened to what Gandalf had to say.

"There is one other that knew that Bilbo had the ring. Over the past years we've been looking everywhere for the creature Gollum, but the enemy found him first. I don't know how long they tortured him, but they discerned two words amid the moans and screams. Shire. Baggins." Gandalf enlightened. His face was concerned. The Nazgul were probably on their way here already. I cursed. I desperately didn't want the same thing that happened to me to happen to the Hobbits.

"That would lead them here! Take it, Gandalf, take it!" cried Frodo, his face consumed with terror. He held the ring out towards Gandalf.

"No, Frodo," replied Gandalf looking somewhat pained.

"I'm giving it to you!"

"Don't tempt me!" Gandalf half shouted, backing away. He then turned to me panicked with pleading blue eyes.

"Take it! Belletheil, please!" he clamored, frantic.

_Belletheil… I can help rebuild your people, take me!_

Unconsciously, I reached for the ring. No! I mentally scolded myself. The ring is treacherous. Withdrawing my hand, I saw Frodo's face fall.

"I can't, I whispered, clenching my hands, "I dare not, not even to keep it safe!" I unclenched my hands and looked at him sorrowfully, "Understand Frodo, I would use this ring from a desire to do good, but through me it would wield a power too terrible to imagine," Gandalf looked at me approvingly and a bit relieved.

"But it cannot stay in the Shire!" Frodo cried, desperate.

"No, it can't," Gandalf stated firmly, "You must leave and leave quickly," I nodded agreeing. Hurriedly, I helped Frodo pack.

"Where, where do I go?"Asked Frodo as Gandalf tossed him a shirt.

"Get out of the Shire, head for the village of Bree!" Gandalf replied. Frodo stopped to eye us.

"What about the two of you?" he questioned.

"I'm going with you. Did you really think I'd let you go by yourself?" I teased, smiling. Frodo looked relieved.

"And I'll be waiting for you at the inn of the Prancing Pony," Gandalf added, "Belletheil will protect you," I nodded and ran to collect my pack from the room I had been staying in, giving Frodo and Gandalf some time alone for whatever other questions Frodo had. Within a minute everything was packed. I always packed light. It's not like I owned much anyway. Rejoining the others, Gandalf looked from me to Frodo.

"You'll have to leave the names of Baggins and Belletheil behind you. They are not safe outside the Shire. Frodo you shall be Mr. Underhill and Belletheil you shall be Lorena," he calmly announced, "Travel only by day and star off the road,"

"We'll cut across country easy enough," I pointed out donning my cloak.

A twig snapped beneath an open window and I drew my sword.

"Stay behind me," I whispered to Frodo.

Gandalf grabbed his staff, walked over to the window and whacked the bush with it. Someone yelped. Gandalf scowled then hoisted Sam through the window, then slammed him against the table.

"Confound it all, Samwise Gamgee! Have you been eavesdropping?" roared Gandalf.

"No S-sir," Sam stuttered, "I haven't been dropping no eaves Sir, honest – just trimming the bushes under the window if you follow me," Sam whimpered, struggling to get out of Gandalf's grasp. I rolled my eyes and sheathed my sword.

"It's been some time since I last heard the sound of your shears," I pointed out smugly, crossing my arms.

"I only heard raised voices," he flustered, "And something about a dark Lord and the end of the world. Please don't hurt me or turn me into anything unnatural!" he pleaded.

Gandalf and I smirked.

"No, perhaps not. I've thought of a better use for you,"

"Keep up, Sam!" I shouted, "Come on!"

Sam jogged behind Frodo, Gandalf, and I. The pots he was laden with jingled and clanged. Eventually we came to a lively green forest where the birds chirped merrily. It was definitely a contrast to the tense atmosphere that surrounded us. Gandalf dismounted his horse then walked over to us.

"Be careful," he warned, "the enemy has many spies in his service," He then leaned down and whispered something to Frodo. I turned and scanned the forest for anything that should not have been, but found nothing. Gandalf came over to me and gave me a hug. "Keep them safe, Bell-Lorena," he corrected then rode off on his horse.

I called for the hobbits to follow me, and then we began our trek though the forest. Soon enough, it gave way to the countryside with its framework of crystal rivers and streams mounted on a vast expanse of land. As we were about to leave a cornfield, I glanced around and couldn't spot Sam. Turning, I see him standing at the edge of the cornfield.

"This is it," he stated, looking at the ground, "If I take one more step it'll be the farthest from home I've ever been," Frodo grabbed his hand an lead him away from the cornfield, then told him something that Bilbo once said.

A bit later we stopped to break for dinner and Sam began frying some bacon. I breathed in deeply and contentedly out the smell of bacon. It smelt delicious. I took this opportunity to pull the top part of my hair back in a half-up, half-down style. It would keep my red hair out of my face. In the silence I heard a sweet melody that drifted on the wind in elvish.

"Wood Elves!" exclaimed Frodo. We all crawled over to a ledge of moss and roots where we got a good look at the elves. Some were on horseback while others walked or carried magnificent banners. They seemed to glow and shine like the day in the night. That was the light of the eldar.

"They're going to the harbor beyond the white towers; to the Grey Havens. They're leaving Middle Earth," I whispered as I gazed at the beautiful sight.

"Somehow it makes me sad," mourned Sam. I agreed. After a few minutes we arrived back at the campground, ate, and then went to bed. On the border between sleep and clarity, I was vaguely aware of Sam muttering something about not being able to sleep. I had used my pack for a pillow and my cloak for a blanket and was accustomed to such conditions. The smell of the outdoors wafted around me with the cold ground beneath me, and the starry sky overhead. My eyes drifted shut and sleep claimed me.

Stretching, I opened my eyes and yawned. It was a few hours after dawn and the clouds were a breathtaking pinkish purple. It wasn't long before everyone was up, fed, and then on the move again.

Currently, we were walking through - yet another – cornfield. Sam and Frodo were goofing off a bit, but I let them be. Big mistake because now they had managed to walk off and get lost in a _cornfield_. I groaned. _Now _of all times? Soon cries of Belletheil could be heard and I walked toward them. Sure enough there stood Sam and Frodo. I rolled my eyes.

"Where were you?" I questioned, but was ignored.

"We thought we'd lost you," Frodo admitted sheepishly and avoided my gaze. I couldn't help but chuckle.

"Come on, let's go. The sooner we get to Bree, the better-" Something small crashed into me taking out my legs, causing me to fall to the ground.

"Oi!" shouted Sam, "Get off of her!" He pulled the offenders off of me.

"Hello Belletheil," piped Pippin as he tried to help me up. "Here, hold these," he ordered as he shoved a bunch of random vegetables in Sam's arms.

"You were in farmer maggot's crop!" incriminated Sam, glaring. The baying of hounds came within ear shot and we ran through the cornfield. All of a sudden the hobbits stopped in front of me, but I couldn't stop in time. I crashed into the hobbits sending us tumbling over a ledge. I was definetly thankful for the leggings I was wearing. We finally came to a halt in a sprawled heap.

"I think I've broken something," groaned Pippin, removing something from behind his back, "Nope, just a carrot," We all began to untangle ourselves from one another.

"Trust a Brandybuck and a Took," muttered Sam as we tried to brush off as many leaves and twigs as possible.

"It was a detour!" Pippin defended.

"To what?" I asked sarcastically as I finished brushing myself off.

"Mushrooms!" he cried and all the hobbits, save Frodo, flocked to the mushrooms. I observed our surroundings and found we were standing by the roadside. _Exactly _where we didn't want to be.

"We should-" Frodo starts but is cut off by an earsplitting shriek.

"Get off the road, now!" I ordered, and we took shelter beneath a large root. Pippin and Merry continued talking about their vegetables so I elbowed them to shush them.

Heavy, armored footfalls were heard upon the road and stopped above our hiding place. Through a crack in the root, I was able to see a black, cloaked figure. Nazgul. He began to sniff. I glanced at Frodo to see him about to slide the ring onto his finger. Grabbing his hand, he seemed to snap out of it. The Nazgul began to lean further over, and I quickly grabbed and threw the bag of vegetables Merry and Pippin had been carrying, despite their silent protests. The rider gave another screech and followed the sound. I rushed the hobbits out and we ran until nightfall.

"What was that?" gasped Merry as he sat sown. I shook my head, knowing that if I told him now, he'd try to flee.

"That rider was looking for something – or someone," Merry stated glancing at Frodo. I saw black flitting among the trees.

"Get down!" I harshly whispered, flattening myself against the damp, leafy earth. After a minute we got up again. "Frodo, Sam, and I have to get the Bree," I whispered to Merry and Pippin. Merry nodded.

"Buckleberry Ferry. Follow me!" Merry complied, jumping up. We followed gratefully. A black figure on horseback suddenly emerged from the trees and the hobbits screamed.

"Run!" I cried brandishing my sword. The pounding of feet showed their compliance. I wouldn't let them die.

_Belletheil… join us. Give up the Halflings!_

"I will never join sides with the ones who murdered my people!" I spat, getting in a ready position. The Nazgul drew his blade and another joined him. They charged and I blocked a blow to my head and swiftly side-stepped the other's sword. I cut to the side and wounded the horse in the flank and cutting a leg on the other. The horses stumbled. I turned and ran towards the river knowing there was no way I could beat them. Hoof beats pounded behind me and I ran with all my might. I could feel their horses' putrid breath on my neck. Branches tore at my face and clothes, but still I forced myself faster. The river came into sight and I saw the hobbits on the detached ferry. I grunted and leapt, tumbling onto the ferry, then sheathed my sword.

"How far to the nearest crossing" I wheezed, pushing myself onto my knees.

"Brandywine Bridge," replied Merry, "Twenty miles,"


	4. At the Prancing Pony

We stood beneath the eaves of green trees at the edge of the forest. Rain fell in icy drops from the night sky and we all pulled our cloaks tighter about us as we endeavored to preserve what little heat we had left. My breath fogged in the chilled air as I tweaked my concealment spell to give me blonde hair and green eyes. This proved taxing as I had almost no instruction in my bit of magic due to the fact that I'm the only one left. I could feel my energy depleting, and knew I had succeeded. Across the muddy road stood the wooden gate of Bree.

"Follow me. I made myself appear to have blonde hair and green eyes just on the off chance we run into someone who may recognize me," I informed, looking both ways across the road and began crossing. Gesturing for the hobbits to follow, my feet sank into the mud.

"You can do that?" piped Pippin skeptically as we scurried across the road.

"You'll see soon enough," I chuckled and knocked on the tall wooden gate. A small square panel swung inward and an old man with scraggly white hair and a long nose poked his head outside the gate.

"What do you want?" he barked gruffly.

"We're heading for the Prancing Pony," I replied, blinking rain out my now green eyes.

"A lady and hobbits?" he paused and counted, "Four hobbits? What business brings you to Bree?" he questioned sternly, shoving his lantern into our faces.

"We wish to stay at the inn," I sighed, annoyed, "Our business is our own," He abruptly slammed the panel and after a few clicks the door swung open and the man beckoned us inside.

"Alright, I meant no offence. It's my job to ask questions after nightfall. There's talk of strange fold abroad. Can't be too careful," yielded the gatekeeper as we walked by and I thanked the man quickly. At this hour the streets were filled with mainly drunk men and beggars.

"Grab onto my cloak quickly, and try not to get separated. The inn is up ahead," I whispered as I led them along the cobblestone street. The hobbits crowded around me and I could feel them take hold of my cloak. Avoiding running into anyone, I finally glimpsed the hanging sign with the rearing horse. We crossed the threshold and were encompassed with the warmth of a fire going in a giant hearth. The hobbits released my soaked cloak and I threw back my hood. The hobbits – mainly Merry and Pippin – gasped. I shook my hair loose and the now golden locks fell a bit past my shoulders.

"You were serious!" sputtered Pippin as he, too, removed his hood.

"You didn't think I could do it," I teased innocently as I approached the innkeeper's wooden desk. Pippin muttered something incoherent to my ears and I chuckled.

"Excuse me," I addressed the innkeeper politely, and an older man with a warming smile turned to us.

"Good evening Lady and little Masters. What can I do for you?" he greeted, "If you're looking for accommodations, I have some cozy normal and hobbit sized rooms available," he informed enthusiastically, smiling and nodding his head, before adding, "Always proud to cater to little folk. Lady? Mister?"

"Lorena," I offered at his cue.

"Underhill, my name is Underhill," stated Frodo a little too sternly and too quickly.

"We're friends of Gandalf the Grey. Can you tell him we've arrived?" I requested as he scribbled down our names for rooms. He paused for a minute then looked up.

"Gandalf?" he questioned and I nodded. "Gandalf?" he repeated slowly and thoughtfully, pen poised in midair. His eyes widened slightly and a flash of recognition flashed in his brown eyes. "Oh, yes, I remember! Elderly chap, big grey beard, pointy hat," he babbled as he gestured and I smiled and nodded. "Not seen him for six months," the innkeeper looked sorry to inform. I frowned.

"Perhaps he hasn't arrived yet," I suggested, "Thank you for your help,"

As we turned from the desk, I chewed my lip slightly as we trudged, crestfallen to an empty table. I could see hope already dwindling in Sam's eyes. Gratefully, I collapsed onto the bench. Exhaustion was finally creeping up on me. We'd been walking non-stop for days and my nights were sleepless as I kept watch over our camp. Here in the inn, I allowed myself a moments rest from my vigilance.

"Sam, don't worry, he'll come," persuaded Frodo hopefully. Shifting my gaze to Sam, his face was sullen and wary. With a loud clank that drew my attention, Merry had set down a large tankard of ale. Merry and Pippin both stared at it mesmerized.

"What's that?" asked Pippin dreamily.

"This my friend, is a pint," Dictated Merry eyeing the ale as a lion eyes it's prey.

"It comes in pints? I'm getting one!" exclaimed Pippin as he shot up from the table. Sam just sighed but I smiled and shook my head.

Sam nudged Frodo and stared me in the eyes.

"That fellow's done nothing but stare at you two since we've arrived," brooded Sam, motioning to someone behind me. I turned my head slightly and used my peripherals. The man was clad in a dark greenish-gray cloak with the hood obscuring his face and he was smoking a pipe. At least he was no Nazgul; he looked like a ranger. The innkeeper was about to pass our table bearing a tray of food and large tankards of ale. I tapped his arm to get his attention.

"Excuse me, Sir, that man in the corner, who is he?" I questioned politely. Glancing at the man to whom I was referring, his face took on an anxious but wary edge.

"He's one of them rangers; dangerous folk they are, roaming the wilds. What his right name is, I've never heard, but around here he's know as Strider," replied the innkeeper with a warning look, then continued on with what he was doing before. I took another wary glance at the man, and turned back to the hobbits.

"We should retire soon," I began but Frodo abruptly sprang from the table and frantically pushed his way through the crowd towards Pippin. I quickly rose and began to follow him, alarmed. What was the matter? A huge weight slammed into my back and drove me to the floor. Quickly, it lifted and a hand was extended to me.

"Sorry miss," the man slurred and he helped me up. As I turned to go, he grabbed my arm in a crushing grip and swung me around to face him. He had scraggly brown hair and stubble. I glared. "Why don't you come with me? I'll show you a good time," he declared drunkenly. I scoffed, not bothering to hide my disgust.

"I'd rather sleep with the pigs!" I spat, flexing my bicep, breaking and loosening his grip, then jerking free. I turned and looked for Frodo to see him hiding behind a pillar and this Strider approaching him. Dashing over there, I appeared in time to yet again be caught in an iron grip, dragged upstairs, and thrown into a room. I drew my sword as I spun around and heard the door slam. I leveled my sword.

"You draw far too much attention to yourself, Mr. Underhill," he scolded sternly then hurriedly started extinguishing candles with his fingers. I followed him with my sword and stood protectively in front of Frodo.

"What do you want?' I demanded fiercely.

"A little more caution from _you_, that is no trinket the hobbit you protect carries!" he accused, glaring from beneath his hood.

"I carry nothing!" insisted Frodo, but his voice gave him away.

"Indeed," Strider replied, "I can avoid being seen if I wish, but to disappear entirely, that is a rare gift," He threw back his hood and I took in his features. Shoulder length, wavy, brownish-black hair with a scruff of a beard and bright blue eyes. He was very tall. Somehow, he looked familiar, but I cannot remember from where; some memory from long ago.

"Are you frightened?" asked Strider.

"Yes," Frodo admitted as he moved closer to me.

"A little," I begrudged, swallowing my pride.

"Not nearly frightened enough; I know what hunts you," he expressed calmly, shaking his head.

_Bam! _The door was flung open and slammed into the wall. I whirled around and was ready to attack the intruders, until I realized who they were.

"Let them go! I'll have you Longshanks!" cried Sam from behind readied fists. Merry and Pippin stood beside him brandishing random objects from below. I sheathed my sword and heard another click. Turing, I saw Strider sheathe his sword also.

"You have a stout heart, little hobbit, but that will not save you. You can no longer wait for the wizard Frodo. They're coming," persuaded Strider.

"It's alright Sam, we're fine," I voiced, smiling.

All the hobbits now lay snug in bed as Strider and I sat awake.

"Will it work?" I questioned hopefully, pulling my knees closer and leaning my tired head upon the cold wall.

"The Riders are not easily fooled, but we must hope for the best," Strider reasoned as he stared intently though our glass window.

"What is your true name? I feel as if we have met before," I prodded, meeting his eyes. For a second something seems to flash there. Both sorrow and joy but it's gone as quick as it came.

"My true name I shall possibly reveal in time," he began slowly, then his face took a melancholy edge that I could tell he was trying not to display, but his true downfall was the despair in his clear blue eyes. That sorrow and despair was not for me, I knew, but for another. "I'm sorry Lorena, but we have not met before today,"

"I must be mistaken then, sorry," I amended, slightly saddened for reasons unknown. Nonetheless, I still couldn't shake the feeling of familiarity. Shrill shrieks that could only come from Nazgul reverberated throughout the air. They must've realized they'd been tricked. We'd stuffed the sheets with pillows so it would look like the hobbits lie there. I shifted so that I was on my knees and gazed out the window to see the riders leaving.

"What are they?" Frodo brooded.

"They were once men, great kings of men. Then Sauron the deceiver gave them the nine rings of power. Blinded by their greed, they took them without question. One by one they fell into darkness. Now they are slaves to his will," I divulged slowly and solemnly as I sat back down. Strider looked shocked that I knew that much.

"They are the Nazgul, Ring Wraiths, neither living nor dead. At all times they feel the presence of the ring. Drawn to the power of the one, they will never stop hunting you," finished Strider calmly. Well now isn't that cheerful?

We'd begun our travel early and I was walking close to Strider at the head of our group. Even with the rest I'd gotten, I was still tired. Keeping the spell at all times was devouring my energy. I just hoped we'd reach our destination soon. The terrain was rocky and the dirt and gravel were loose. Not the best for a clumsy person like me.

The wind was slightly cool but refreshing, and I welcomed the smell of fresh air. Gravel crunched beneath my boots as we made our way down an incline. As I moved to make another step, the dirt and gravel gave way beneath my foot and it slid out from underneath me. I landed and slid down as the rocks tore at my clothes and bit my skin. My hands dug at the ground trying to stop my fall, but to no avail. I crashed into a tree and my head snapped back and collided with the rough bark. Pain briefly exploded from my head and I was temporarily stunned. Distantly, I heard my name but I was unable to acknowledge or move. The sound of someone skidding on gravel reached my ears and a shadow hovered over me. Their lips moved, but for the life of me, I couldn't discern what they were saying. Hands gently grasped my shoulders and shook me while worried, beautiful blue eyes looked for some sort of sign. I blinked and my senses began to come back to me. When I was fully aware, I looked up to see Strider kneeling before me as his hands searched my head for any wounds.

"I'm alright," I whispered, not entirely comfortable with his hands roaming about my head. He looked at me doubtfully.

"You're bleeding," he revealed as he withdrew one hand and crimson blood stained his fingers.

"It's just a scratch, I'll live," I declared nonchalantly as I sat up. I was a bit dizzy but I stood up anyway. Suddenly, another wave of dizziness hit and my legs buckled as I swayed. Strong hands grasped my shoulders to keep me steady.

"Not so fast, you hit your head pretty heard," advised Strider, concerned, "Can you walk?"

"Just give me a moment and I'll be fine," I sighed. I loathed being helpless. Crunches of gravel hurriedly came closer, which I took to be the hobbits. I tried to take a step but my head was still spinning and I almost fell, but Strider caught me.

"Careful," he murmured softly as he moved his arm to across my shoulders to support me. He smelt of pine and the outdoors.

"Be-Lorena, are you alright?" questioned Frodo worriedly, almost giving me away. I wanted to stay undercover until I found out who this guy really is.

"I'm fine, just a bit dizzy," I claimed as my vision began to return to normal. When everything was back to normal, I could see the hobbits' worried, sad faces. "Don't look so worried, you guys. Nobody died," I laughed as I brushed my side bang out of my eye. Then I realized how close I was to Strider and I flushed slightly, embarrassed. "Thanks Strider, I can walk now," I mumbled sheepishly.

"If you're sure," he replied gently as he released me. "We should get moving," We set off again in direction of a forest. For the first few minutes I caught Strider glancing at me often. No doubt to make sure I really _could_ walk. Dropping back to walk with the hobbits, Frodo shouted,

"Where are you taking us?"

"Into the wild," Strider answered while we entered a green forest.

"How do we know this Strider is a friend of Gandalf?" merry scowled as he kicked a branch.

"We don't," I sighed, avoiding a leafy branch, "But I think we can trust him,"

"I think a servant of the enemy would look fairer, but feel fouler," proposed Frodo who had seemed to take a liking to Strider.

"He's foul enough," muttered Merry irately.

"We have no choice but to trust him. As much as I'd like to think I could do without his help, I can't," I retorted a little too harshly.

"But where is he leading us?" asked Sam, exasperated.

"To Rivendell, Master Gamgee, the house of Elrond," announced Strider, not even turning to look at us. I perked up at this and smiled. I couldn't wait to get there!


	5. Can We Trust Him?

After a few more relatively quiet hours traversing the wild, in which I made simple conversation with Strider as I ventured to know him better, which really wasn't making much progress, I realized the hobbits were no longer behind us. Turning, I saw they were unloading pots and food from Strider's horse.

"Gentlemen, we do not stop till nightfall," observed Strider with a slight hint of annoyance.

"What about breakfast?" questioned Pippin, raising his brows.

"You've already had it," replied Strider, confused.

"Yes, but what about second breakfast?" continued Pippin confidently as he lifted a pan.

Seeing Strider's perplexed look, I grabbed his shoulder and whispered, "Hobbits customarily have around two meals for every one a man has," Strider just frowned, shook his head, and turned to go.

"Don't think he knows about second breakfast," grumbled Merry as I spotted an apple tree. While Pippin was frantically rambling off meals to Merry, I grasped the rough bark of the tree and ascended to a lower branch. The air was sweet with the perfume of apples as I plucked some for the hobbits. This would have to do. I turned on the branch and threw one to each of the hobbits; but purposely aiming one at Pippin's head. Plucking two more, I tossed one the Strider as I stifled a laugh. He caught the red apple deftly while chuckling at Pippin and Merry's reaction. I swung my leg over the branch and dropped from the tree, landing in a crouch. As I straightened, I couldn't help grinning as I peacefully bit into my vibrant, red apple. It was sweet and juicy, so much in fact, that some trickled out of the corner of my mouth. Embarrassed, I quickly wiped it away with my dark-blue sleeve.

Seeing as how the hobbits once again had the cookware and provisions stored on the horse, I resumed my post beside Strider as we commenced our travels yet again. We were all contentedly – well maybe not Pippin – munching on our newfound treat. When naught was left, save the core, I tossed it into the forest. It'd be good for the soil.

Strider, who had finished sometime ago, treaded closer to me and murmured, "Thank you,"

"Don't mention it," I replied as I waved it off, after all it was just an apple. He stiffened for a moment and his bright eyes stared at me.

"You're too kind for you own good," he remarked with a testing tone and an odd glint in his eyes. Inwardly, I froze, realizing why he was so familiar. Outwardly, I tried to keep my face impassive, but my stride faltered a tiny bit. Could it really be him? He reminded me of my old friend Aragorn only Strider was colder than I had memory of him being. Aragorn almost always uttered that phrase when I said something like that. Nonetheless, I couldn't risk revealing myself in my current situation; I had the hobbits the think of. They came first.

"What?" I mused, evasively and I placed a confused look upon my face.

He sighed, "Never mind," then avoided my gaze. "You remind me of someone," He took a step closer but I stood my ground. Weird… this might really be him.

"Who?" I pried, curiously, as I met his gaze.

"Someone I haven't seen in a long time," he divulged elusively, staring into space. He stepped back.

"That could be anyone," I groaned disappointedly. Strider just smirked.

The following days were dismal and bleak. The nights grew colder and my energy kept its steady decline. More and more Strider reminded me of Aragorn. It's as if he's testing me out of some last desperate hope that fades with the hours. I know the hobbit's come first, and that protecting them is my duty, but I desperately wanted to know if this was indeed Aragorn or not. I'll have to keep an eye out for the right time. Such thoughts whirled in my head, as if caught by a snowstorm. However, it was better than the marshes and bogs we were now passing through. The stench was unpleasant, and the mud loathsome, but the insects were ghastly. Each step was treacherous. Nothing could please me more in this moment that to be free of the marshes and bogs.

Finally, we stopped for the night. On dry ground at last! The hobbits almost didn't make it through dinner. For such small beings they can stand so much.

By the dying embers of our fire, I sat cleaning as much of the grime as I could off my sword from the horrid marsh. The hobbits were all, more or less, on their way to sleep. I spied Strider seat himself across the dying fire from me, but went back to my sword.

"Tinúviel elvanui, Elleth alfirin edhelhael," A deep soothing voice began to sing, and I joined in as I finished with my sword.

"O hon ring finnil fuinui, A renc gelebrin thiliol," We sang softly. I closed my eyes and relished in the sound of the song. It took me right back to my days in Rivendell.

"Who is she; this woman you sing of?" Frodo whispered curiously, as he rolled over to face us. " 'Tis the Lady Lúthien. The elf-maiden who gave her love to Beren, a mortal," Strider mused with a sad smile as he prodded the fire with a stick.

"What happened to her?" Frodo asked quietly with a small smile.

"She died," I whispered with downcast eyes. "Get some sleep, Frodo," Within moments he was asleep while Strider tended the fire. I just stared into the flickering flames.

"You can speak elvish?" he questioned curiously as he added more wood to our small fire.

"I was taught by a dear friend," I replied absentmindedly with my sword across my lap. He glanced up at me then froze. His clear blue eyes were riveted to the winged hilt of my sword.

"May I," he queried, gesturing to my sword. Trusting he wasn't about to do something rash, I gingerly passed it hilt first. He took it tentatively and studied it closely. Meaningfully, he trailed his fingers over the winged hilt while his eyes shone with new hope. "This is an excellent sword. Where did you come by it?" he asked eagerly.

"From a friend of mine," I exhaled wistfully as I wished everyone was still alive. I can't tell you how many times I've wished that.

"How do they fare?" Hope shone bright in his eyes.

"They died," I replied bluntly. I frowned but I had to get over it. Nothing was going to bring them back. His face fell.

"How?"

"They were surrounded by orcs and Nazgul and fought until their last breath," The slaughter once again invaded my mind, I was infuriated that I had done nothing and still mourned for everyone's death. However the past was the past, there is no changing it. I must move on. Also why would Strider want to know? He dispiritedly traced the moon crest carved into the blade with his fingers.

"It is as I feared then, she is dead," he grieved with glassy eyes, then gazed at the sword longingly. "May I borrow this for a moment?" I nodded acquiescing, as I was curious as to what he planned to do. Then it hit me. _She!_ As I quickly glanced to Strider, he had gone a few paces from the fire and was mumbling something that was not elvish. It _was_ Aragorn. I removed my spell and felt as if a weight had been lifted from my shoulders. I treaded softly so as not to make a sound. Aragorn's head was bowed as he prepared to raise the hilt of my sword to his lips. I soundlessly knelt in front of him and raised his chin with my finger. His eyes widened slightly and a lone tear rolled down his face.

"No need to perform my final rites, I'm not dead yet," I whispered teasingly as my eyes were alight with joy and I grinned. He threw down the sword and embraced me tightly. I returned the hug and for some reason I was more overjoyed than I thought I'd be.

"Why did you hide from me?" he questioned as he pulled away.

"I didn't know who you were for sure. It was my duty to protect the hobbits and I didn't know if I could trust you," I confessed slightly ashamed of my actions, " but I didn't want to stand out and draw attention or risk the chance of someone unwanted recognizing me. I'm sorry,"

He gently lifted my sword from the ground and returned it to me, hilt first.

"I understand. I'm just glad you're back," he confided, smiling. I smirked.

"It's nice to be back. I bet your favorite elf will be overjoyed to see you back safe," I teased, laying down and gazing at the stars. Aragorn was silent.

"We're not together anymore,"


End file.
